Children of the Night
by LilPotterfanfic
Summary: Raoul and Christine were the children of noon, perfectly suited for each other, but not compatible with darkness. Erik was a child of midnight, cloaked in darkness and almost bare of life. But what if there was one who was perfectly suited for him? Meet Maggie, a daughter of dawn, a light that belongs in the shadows. (Erik/OC Oh yeah, I'm going there)
1. Apparently Your Typical Mary Sue

**Children of the Night  
Chapter 1: Apparently Your Typical Mary Sue**

**A/N: That's right, I'm writing a Mary Sue fic! *dun dun dun!* Nah, I'm just kidding. I will attempt to make Maggie as un Sue-ish as possible, but please bear with me just for this chapter. Concerning my reasoning for writing this fic: I am a huge phangirl. I've seen all of the movie versions, read Kay and am trying to find a version of Leroux, seen the Broadway Musical, and am currently auditioning for the part of Christine. I've always loved POTO, and just like any phangirl, have dreamed of becoming a part of it. Well, now that my dream might be turning into reality, I'm writing this fic to try and get a better understanding of life at the Opera Populaire. Also to satisfy my phangirlitis. I will endeavor to make this technically accurate, interesting, well- written and believable. But, constructive criticism is appreciated, flames are ignored and reviews are welcomed! **

**Maggie's POV**

Maggie sighed as she tried the temps de` fletch once more. The muffled sounds of the orchestra echoed around the small rehearsal studio while she practiced her dance solo in _Hannibal. _Opening night was the next day, and due to the sudden cast changes, the entire Opera Populaire had been working to the bone to get everything in order.

Distracted by her thoughts, Maggie's toes buckled beneath her and she fell to the polished wooden floor once again. Temps de` fletches always managed to trip the ballerina up. She wished that Meg or Christine were there to help her, since both girls could perform the move perfectly, but Meg was rehearsing for one of the corps de` ballet numbers, and Christine was practicing for her role as Alyssa.

Maggie folded herself onto the ground (not-so-gracefully), and began massaging the soles of her feet as the entrance bars to Christine's solo began. Maggie looked around furtively, even going so far as to stick her head out of the doorway to check to make sure there was no one in the hall. There wasn't, and she nodded approvingly before shutting and locking the door.

And then, Maggie opened her mouth and sung.

_"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye."_

Maggie started off softly at first, her clean, crisp voice slowly gaining power as the song progressed. Lately, it was getting even harder and harder to express herself through dance, and Maggie desperately needed some way to express herself. Her dancing was loosing its passion, and she had never had any talent with words. The banging she did on the piano hardly counted as playing it, and though her voice was untrained and horridly obnoxious, it did its job.

_"Remember me, once in a while, please promise me you'll try."_

Her face soured a bit as she sung the line, remembering the letter that had arrived from her guardians that day. The first letter they had sent her in months. And of course, this one was only to tell her that he had become patron of the Opera Populaire.

_"On that day, that not so distant day, when you are far away and free, if you happen to remember, stop and think of me."_

Phillipe DeChagny was in no terms a free spirit, and his younger brother, Raoul, was too preoccupied by whatever challenge had presented itself to him to remember the orphaned ballerina he and his brother were supposed to be providing for.

Oh, they did their jobs in some form or fashion. They provided funds for her once a month, they checked in occasionally with the managers to make sure she hadn't run off and eloped with someone. But a letter might be nice once in a while, or at least some glimmer that either man cared enough to actually check in on her instead of just letting their accountant go through the motions.

To them, she was nothing more than a minor annoyance.

_"Think of August when the leaves were green! Don't think about the way things might have been. Think of me, think of me waking, silent and resigned. Imagine me, trying to hard to put you from my mind."_

Of their own accord, Maggie's thoughts drifted to the precious moments of her youth when her father would watch her prance about their small parlor, and after his death, when her sickly mother would tell her stories about the angels that would eventually accept her into their ranks.

But no. She shook her head, ridding it of memories of the past. She could not afford to become weepy at the moment. Perhaps after Raoul and Phillipe had left the Opera, then she could bawl in her bedroom to her heart's content.

_"Think of me, please say you'll think of me, whatever else you choose to do! There will never be a day when I won't think of you!"_

Maggie's voice rose higher in pitch and harsher as she desperately pleaded for someone to remember her for once. For someone to just take one second out of their own lives and grant her some attention. To care for her, not because they felt sorry for her or because they had to, but because they wanted to.

_"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade. They have their seasons, so do we! But please promise me, that sometimes, you will think-"_

Maggie blushed, embarrassed at herself.

She was not a lap dog, desperate for some form or fashion of attention. She was not La Carlotta, who wore her every thought on her sleeve.

No, she was a strong ballerina, who kept what she felt inside of her, because she had the will to handle it. Maggie didn't need anyone to gratify her. She didn't need to prove herself to anyone. However, she did need others. No one could handle being alone.

_"Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah. Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah. Ah ah ah ah ah ah aaaaah aaaaAAAAAAAAAHHH OF ME!"_

Maggie panted as she finished the song, her labored breaths sounding harsh and ragged in the dim rehearsal studio.

"What's gotten into you?" she chided herself, watching her rosy cheeks fade back to normal in one of the mirrors. "This is ridiculous, Maggie. Singing over one of your friends is _horrendous _etiquette. Why would you even want to, anyways? You are a ballerina, not a singer. Your voice is pitchy, obnoxious, and shallower than a puddle! You have no business singing that aria, and frankly, I have no idea why you'd ever think you even could!"

**Erik's POV**

Erik held a rather different opinion then Mademoiselle Lege`re. He had heard every note the girl had sung from where he was hidden from her view.

If Maggie had looked very closely at the most clouded of the mirrors, she would have noticed a faint silhouette of a tall and well built man in a flowing cloak. Erik couldn't even remember why he'd left the rehearsal to spy on one of his ballerinas. All he knew was that he was extremely glad he had, otherwise he might never had discovered Maggie's hidden talent, a voice almost as beautiful as Christine's.

Of course, she needed training, and her voice was thoroughly uncultivated and a tad bit pitchy, but that would be corrected in due time- under his instruction, of course.

Erik smirked to himself and turned away from the mirror portal as the young dancer left the studio. As he walked down the secret passageway, the familiar feeling of success assaulted his senses. Christine was singing the lead, that toad of a diva was gone from the Opera, and he had discovered a new voice. In fact, he was suddenly struck with a burst of inspiration for his opera.

Yes, everything was going Erik's way.


	2. Fits of Hissyness

**Fodder for Insanity **  
**Chapter 2: Fits of Hissyness**

**Maggie's POV**

Maggie smiled triumphantly as she landed the temps de` fletch and ended her ballet solo. The audience applauded as the curtains closed and she moved to the wings to watch Christine's performance. Maggie shivered in her skimpy costume, and smiled gratefully at Meg when she placed a robe around her.

The two girls grinned supportively at Christine as she took the stage nervously. Her voice was shaky at first, but grew more powerful as the song progressed.

During a break in the vocals, Maggie's eyes wandered to the audience and she scanned the crowd nonchalantly, a content smile on her face. Her eyes rose higher and higher until they rested on a crowded box, where a vaguely familiar face was holding court.

"_Can it be, can it be Raoul?" _she murmured, just as the man stood up and cheered with a smile on his familiar face.

So, it really was one of her guardians.

"_Long ago, it seems so long ago. He was so preoccupied back then. He may have forgotten me, but, I remembered him!"_

Maggie sighed as Christine received her well deserved standing ovation, and followed numbly as Meg pulled her onstage for their curtain call. She stared directly at Phillipe and Raoul while she bowed, waiting for some spark of recognition in either of their eyes. But Phillipe merely looked bored, and Raoul was too busy staring at Christine to take notice of her.

As the curtains closed, Maggie turned to Christine, hoping for some support, but when she saw the happy gleam in her brown eyes, Maggie knew that she just couldn't let her problems dampen Christine's success.

So instead, Maggie pulled the other girl into a hug and whispered words of congratulations in her ear. She hurried off to her dressing room, her teeth chattering in the cold December air.

A sharp rap on the door alerted Maggie to someone's presence, and she pulled it open to reveal the stern Madame Giry.

"Marguerite," she said crisply, walking into the small bedroom.

"Yes madame?" Maggie replied nervously, straightening the bed clothes behind her back. Madame Giry's commanding presence suddenly made the bedroom feel as if it were in horrid disarray.

Madame Giry pursed her lips primly, picking Maggie's pointe` shoes up from the dressing table. "You gave an exceptional performance tonight," she said reluctantly, "I'm very proud of you."

Maggie beamed from the praise. "Merci madame."

"Yes, well..." Madame struggled to get the words out as she set the shoes back on the table. "Rest tonight, you do not have to attend practice tonight or in the morning."

Maggie grinned, she had been fighting off yawns for the better part of the past hour. "Merci madame!" she exclaimed.

The older woman's face softened slightly. "Boun nuit, Marguerite. Rest well, little one, you will need it."

Maggie nodded enthusiastically as Madame left, then turned to the mirror with a tired look on her face. She slipped out of her golden and emerald tutu, and peeled off the scarlet leotard, replacing it with a ruffled nightgown and robe. Maggie winced as she pulled the pins from her tight bun and unfastened the embellished metal circlet that yanked at her scalp.

Her blonde waves set free, Maggie gave a sigh of relief. And it was only then that she noticed the letter.

Sitting on her dressing table was a single, blood red rose, a velvety black ribbon tied around it. The flower sat on top of a pure black envelope that Maggie had seen in the hands of multiple people.

With shaking hands, she read the scarlet words written by the Opera Ghost.

_Dearest Marguerite Lege`re,_

_I sincerely hope that you've enjoyed being the prima ballerina for _Hannibal_, for rest assured, you shall never perform as a ballerina here again. The tide is changing, my dear, I highly recommend that you swim with it rather than against it._

_Your faithful servant,_  
_OG_

Maggie stood still for a few moments after she finished the letter, her hands crumpling the thick parchment in a white-knuckled grip.

What could this possibly mean? Maggie wasn't even aware that the Opera Ghost knew who she was, and now he was sending her letters?!

She gasped and began to breath harshly and jaggedly, the shallow gulps of air tearing at her throat.

He wanted her to stop being the prima ballerina! But no, why? What had she done to displease him? Maggie had never gossiped about the Phantom, never laughed at Buquet's impressions of him. She feared the Phantom, of course she did! But she also respected him.

Maggie did her job as prima ballerina! She worked tirelessly to perfect her craft, most of the time through the night, going without sleep for days on end. She worked herself to her limit. And no matter how many pairs of shoes she wore through, or how many times she fainted from exhaustion, or how many times her feet bled, Maggie had always given every dance number her all.

The breaths were coming harder now, racking through her small frame in great shudders.

Sure, Maggie wasn't the most graceful person off of the stage. She tripped multiple times a day, and could remember several occasions when she had walked directly into walls. But surely that wasn't reason enough to incur the Phantom's wrath!

Her legs buckled and she fell to her knees, tears welling up in her eyes and dripping down her cheeks.

The Phantom couldn't take her away from the Opera, he just couldn't! If he did, she would have no place to go. Nowhere to go but the DeChagny mansion. That bland, colorless house where Phillipe would force her into a corset and take her away from the stage forever. And then once she had become a proper lady, he and Raoul would forget her like a spoil t child lost interest in a new toy.

Maggie couldn't leave, the Opera Populaire was her home!

As her hysteria subsided, Maggie heard eager knocks on her door.

_"Maggie, Maggie," _Meg sung sweetly from outside.

Drying her tears, Maggie wrapped her robe more securely around her and opened the door with a forced smile.

"Hello Meg," she said, stepping out into the hallway, her bare feet chilled by the marble floor. "Did you want to go visit Christine?"

Meg nodded eagerly and grabbed hold of Maggie's arm, pulling her to Christine's room. Meg was still scared to walk around the building alone at night. And in light of the letter, now Maggie was too.

**Erik's POV**

Erik watched coldly as Maggie sank to the floor in hysterics, ignoring the twinges of guilt in his stomach.

He supposed he could have elaborated on what his intentions were in the letter, but that would have defeated the purpose.

Maggie needed to be scared. So far, she was the only one in the Opera Populaire who didn't seem to fear him, and to truly control the theater, Erik must have a hold on all of its occupants. It would also be far easier to make her sing if she was convinced he would harm her.

Never mind that she had recovered so quickly after being terrified. He would break this girl, damn it!

**Maggie's POV**

Meg and Maggie found Christine kneeling in her room, an expectant look on her face and her head tilted upwards. Momentarily confused, Maggie held back while Meg ran to Christine.

It almost looked like an angel had been talking to her.

_"Where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect."_ Meg sang, helping Christine into a robe.

Maggie shook off her confusion and unpinned the crown from Christine's curls. _"I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?" _she asked contemplatively.

Christine blushed and sat on her bed, cradling a portrait of her father in her hands. _"Father once spoke of an angel, I used to dream he'd appear." _she admitted shyly. _"Now as I sing I can sense him, and I know he's here!" _

Maggie smiled gently, glad that Christine still felt a connection with her father. And angel of music may sound far fetched, but then again, so did an opera ghost. Meg however, looked at Maggie worriedly before taking a seat next to Christine.

_"Christine you must have been dreaming, stories like this can't come true. Christine you're talking in riddles, and it's not like you!"_

Maggie personally thought that it was a wondrous thing to believe in, and that Christine was brave to do so. And she planned on telling her that, until Madame Giry appeared in the doorway.

"Meg," she snapped at her daughter, "You are a ballerina, are you not? Then practice!" Meg shot an apologetic glance over her shoulder before she hurried from the room.

Spying Maggie, Madame glared at her stonily. "Marguerite, aren't you supposed to be resting?"

"Forgive me, madame," Maggie apologized, "I wanted to congratulate Christine. Boun nuit."

She left the room, only to crash straight into a well-clothed chest. She blinked up at the man from the floor to find her guardian staring right back at her. "Raoul?"

"Marie?" he asked disbelievingly. "Oh yes, I forgot, you're a dancer here, aren't you?"

"Yes," she muttered, picking herself up from the floor, "I danced the prima ballerina role for _Hannibal_ tonight, actually."

Raoul blinked a couple of times. "That was you?" he asked incredulously. "Oh, well, uh, good job, I suppose."

Maggie nodded, noting how awkward the conversation was for the both of them.

"Do you know Christine Daae, by any chance?" he asked suddenly.

Now it was Maggie who blinked. "Um, yes, Raoul, her bedroom is just across the hall."

Raoul grinned, already making his way to Christine's door. "Good show, thank you Marie!"

"It's Maggie," she corrected him softly, her voice thick with tears. But he was already gone.

She made her way to her dressing room, crying softly all the while.

Was it so hard for him to remember her name? For the two of them to remember that she worked at the Opera Populaire? Or just for them to inquire about her well being?

All of a sudden, Christine's angel of music seemed even more miraculous.

**Erik's POV**

Erik stormed through the secret passageways, livid with fury.

How dare that fop of a man steal the attention of not just one, but two of his singers! Oh how he wished he'd had the foresight to bring his Punjab lasso. It would have given him great satisfaction to snap the fop's neck.

Not only did the boy steal Christine's love from Erik, but but he had also caused Maggie to cry. That was Erik's job, and Erik's alone!

Besides, when he had done it, it had been for Maggie's own good, when the fop had done it, it was for absolutely no reason at all!

But rest assured that he would fix this. Erik would take Christine to his home that night, he would woo her with his music and make her realize her love for him. But first, Erik would check up on Maggie, just to make sure she was unharmed. Or at least, that's what he told himself.

He reached the entrance to Maggie's room and removed the false back of her wardrobe. Erik stepped into the cabinet, careful not to ruffle any of the dresses, and looked through one of the peepholes in the door.

Maggie was seated on the small bed, her legs pulled up to her chest, staring numbly at the wall. Erik frowned angrily. The fop had hurt her more than he'd realized.

To Erik's surprise, Maggie opened her mouth and softly sang the melody Christine had sung many times before.

_"Mother once told me of angels, I used to dream they'd appear. Now as I sing I can sense them, and I know they're here!"_

She got up slowly and stood in the center of the room, her face desperately hopeful, her voice gentle and pure.

_"Here in this room, they call me softly, somewhere inside, hiding. Somehow I know he's always been with me, he the unseen genius."_

And then her face broke, her shoulders slumped and her voice grew mocking.

_"Maggie, you must have been dreaming, stories like that can't come true. Maggie you're singing in riddles, and it's not like you!"_

But as Erik watched, Maggie's face hardened into a mask of determination. Her song grew louder, a burst of courage that commanded and begged and pleaded.

_"Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant me to your glory! Angel of music, hide no longer. Secret and strange angel..."_

Able to resist no longer, Erik replied back, bouncing his voice so that it seemed to be coming from her mirror.

_"I'm with you even now," _he sung to her.

_"My hands are cold," _she whispered back, an awed expression on her face. _"My face, angel, it's white."_

_"All around you," _he whispered soothingly.

"It frightens me," she admitted in a strangely broken voice.

_"Do not be frightened," _he replied back in the most gentle tone he had ever used before.

He left her there, staring into the mirror. And after he returned Christine to her home at dawn, that was where Maggie still was.


	3. Here Comes the Back Story!

**Fodder for Insanity**  
**Chapter 3: Here Comes The Back story!  
**

**Maggie's POV**

Performances of _Hannibal _continued every night at the Opera Populaire for the next week. La Carlotta had returned to the theater like a dark plague, and it seemed like she hated Christine with a passion now. Christine had actually been rather quiet since opening night, even going so far as to actively avoid Meg and Maggie.

Although, Maggie herself hadn't been much better. While Phillipe had not returned since opening night, Raoul had.

When he wasn't hovering over Christine, Raoul was with Maggie, playing the part of a caring and protective guardian. But Maggie knew that it was all an act, put on for the sake of attracting Christine.

On the bright side, Raoul did know Maggie's name now. And he was learning and warming up to her a little bit more each day. In fact, if Maggie didn't know better she's almost believe he was beginning to care about her.

The Opera Populaire was now underway with rehearsals for _Sleeping Beauty, _featuring La Carlotta as Sleeping Beauty, Piangi as the Prince, and Maggie as the silent fairy godmother.

She sighed as she tied the ribbons of her pointe` shoes. With a groan, she fell onto her back, lying on the floor of her bedroom.

Now that Raoul was following her like a shadow, the moments of solitude Maggie used to hate had become precious. She resolved to bear with it for the time being. After all, once he had won over Christine, Raoul would forget all about Maggie as usual.

Everything would go back to normal.

Satisfied, she stood and made for the door, only to pause and stare at the black envelope on her dressing table, a growing feeling of dread inside of her.

With trembling hands, she picked up the Phantom's letter and broke the seal.

_Dearest Mademoiselle Lege`re,_

_It has come to my attention that you have continued to dance the prima ballerina role. You must have misunderstood me my dear, let me make it perfectly clear to you now._

_You are never to dance in this opera again. You have a gift that I command you to use. You will sing the role of Maleficent in this opera. I will not let your voice go to waste._

_Your Loyal Servant,_  
_OG_

Maggie whimpered softly, dropping the letter on her dressing table as though it had burned her fingers.

"But I can't sing," she whispered, backing away from the table.

How had the Phantom heard her singing? And for that matter, why on Earth would he find her obnoxious voice beautiful?

"Miss Lege`re?" a male voice called from outside, shocking Maggie and causing her to jump.

She yanked the door open breathlessly, relieved to see that it was just the mustachioed Firmin.

"Ah, monsieur," she said, moving out of his way. "Forgive me, I'm afraid that I was rather startled by you."

But Firmin was staring at the letter on her desk, looking as though his worst fears had been confirmed. "So, you received one as well, did you? In that case, please come with me, mademoiselle." he said gravely.

Maggie nodded and followed the manager out the door, stopping only to collect the letter. As they traveled to the study, she held it in her hands like a fully loaded gun that could go off at any moment.

As she followed Firmin into his and Andre's office, Maggie was shocked to see that unlikely group of people gathered there.

Philippe reclined in an armchair off to the side, bored as usual. Carlotta and Piangi both sung angrily at a flustered Andre. Raoul and Madame Giry argued with each other, their voices combining into a thunderous duet, while Meg did her best to soothe a distressed Christine.

Catching sight of Maggie, Raoul turned away from Madame Giry with a relieved look on his face. "Maggie, thank God you're unharmed, we were so worried about you!"

Maggie raised an eyebrow incredulously. _Him _worried about _ her_? "What's going on here," she asked curiously, uncomfortable now that everyone was focused on her.

"I chall tell jou vhat iz going on herre!" Carlotta proclaimed angrily, waving an envelope in Maggie's face. "Ve haff all recieved von ov these!"

Maggie frowned, looking around the room. "All of you?" she asked, clutching her own letter even more tightly.

"Yes," Madame Giry said, "All instructions from the Opera Ghost on how his theater is to be run."

Maggie paled, wondering if she was going to be fired. "What did these instructions entail?"

Andre stepped forward, holding a long sheaf of parchment up to the light. "According to this so called ghost, Megan Giry will be the prima ballerina, Miss Daae Sleeping Beauty, and La Carlotta the silent queen."

"And what about me?" Maggie asked hoarsely.

Andre raised his eyebrows at her from over the letter. "That is what's most curious, my dear. He would have you, a prima ballerina, sing Maleficent."

"This is ridiculous!" Firmin boomed, ripping the letter from his partner's hands. "This 'Opera Ghost' can't threaten us like this. We will run our theater as we see fit!"

"What threats?" Maggie asked exasperatedly, sick of being so confused.

Raoul moved so that he was able to hold one of Maggie's hands while still keeping his other hand on Christine's shoulder. "Maggie," he said, "He threatened to kill one of us if we refuse to meet his demands."

**...**

If Maggie thought Raoul was incessant before, he was attached to her at the hip now.

It seemed like everyone thought the Phantom was most likely to murder Maggie, especially after she admitted to having received a threatening letter from him once before. Despite her better judgement, Maggie was even beginning to believe that Raoul was honestly concerned for her. She hadn't had a moment alone for two weeks.

Which was bad, considering the fact that Maggie had never been able to successfully master a solo if someone else was present. The managers had made the poor decision to refuse the Phantom's demands, and proceeded with _Sleeping Beauty _as they had originally intended.

Maggie screwed up her face in concentration as she leaned backwards and spun on her toes, letting her rigging harness hold the weight of her torso. Feeling a sharp tug on the rope from Bouquet up above, she pulled out of the spin and into a grand jete`.

Her landing wasn't quite so graceful. She was unprepared for the ropes to go slack so quickly, and the unexpected weight caused Maggie's knees to buckle, sending her to the ground.

Meg and Christine rushed over to help her to her feet, both of their faces were concerned.

"Are you alright?" Meg asked gently, pinning an errant wave back into Maggie's bun.

"Yes, I'm fine," Maggie replied, rubbing her exposed knee.

"You don't look fine," Christine pointed out, noticing how pale Maggie's face was. "You've been practicing through the night again, haven't you?"

Maggie grinned sheepishly and folded her hands behind her back. "Maybe."

"And missing meals?" Meg added sternly, pinching Maggie's gaunt cheek.

"I admit it, yes, I've been missing meals and practicing through the night!" Maggie told them as a stage hand unlaced her from the harness.

Christine groaned exasperatedly. "Maggie! You know that's not safe!"

Maggie frowned as they ceded the stage to Carlotta and Piangi. "Why, because of the Opera Ghost?"

Christine glared at her. "You know that isn't what I meant."

"Although you should be worried about that," Meg added.

"What if you faint again?" Christine demanded, forcing Maggie into a seat.

"That was one time!" Maggie said, then quickly corrected herself at a glare from Meg, "Oh, fine, so maybe it's happened five times... But it isn't as though I have any choice, you know as well as I do that I can't get a solo right if I'm being watched."

"We know," Meg said gently. "But that doesn't mean we have to like it."

"Maggie," Christine said in a soft, motherly tone, "Promise me that you'll at least eat something and get some sleep tonight."

Maggie bit her lip, recognizing defeat when she saw it. There were many times when Meg and Christine reminded her of her mother.

"Alright," she said, allowing her exhaustion to seep into her voice, "I promise."

**...**

_Maggie held her breath as she clutched onto her mother's skirts, her eyes tightly shut. She could feel the warmth and wetness of her mother's tears on her head. Her mama was crying into Maggie's hair, just as Maggie had done many times before to her mama._

_Maggie's eyes opened and she stared at her papa fearfully. "Daddy," she whispered, "What's happening?"_

_If it were possible, her mama wept even harder._

_Papa crouched down to look into Maggie's eyes, he still smiled even though tears streamed down his cheeks. "Do you remember the angels your mama used to tell you about?" he asked her gently._

_She nodded, eyes wide._

_Papa smiled at her. "I'm going to be with the angels from now on, morning." _

_"No!" she sobbed, flinging herself at hi. "I don't want you to go, papa. I'm your morning and you're my papa! You said we'd spend every day together!"_

_"Each night and each morning," he said fondly, remembering the promise. "And we will. I will always be with you, morning, I'll always be watching over you. But I don't have a choice. Two very bad men are going to take me to the angels, whether I want to go or not."_

_"Then tell them to take me with you," Maggie cried. "Any where you go, let me go too!"_

_There was a bang from the hallway and her papa's face hardened. He lifted Maggie up and put her in her mama's arms, then guided them to the closet door._

_"Never, ever say that," he whispered. "Maggie, you can't be with me, but I will always be with you. Can you promise me something?"_

_Maggie nodded._

_"If you ever see the men who are going to take me to the angels, run as fast as you can."_

_He closed the door, and Maggie and Mama were thrown into darkness, unable to hear anything but the gunshot that would echo in Maggie's ears for the rest of her life._

**...**

When Maggie woke up from her nightmare she was crying.

She'd always had an ulterior motive for staying awake, practicing was what she told others she did, practicing was what she told herself she did. But in the back of her mind, Maggie knew the true reason for her insomnia. It was in sleep that she couldn't escape from her memories.

The night wrapped itself around her like a comforting hug while she cried.

During the day she had to be strong. In the light she had to be who others expected her to be. The sun was harsh, unfeeling and cruel. It shined only for the lucky ones, those who were privileged enough to be accepted. Who weren't scorned for their hopes or dreams, their pasts. Those who weren't scorned for who they were.

At night she could be herself.

Maggie could cry as much as she wanted to without being judged by others. The moon's light was gentle and calm, the stars cheerful and loving, the sky serene and still. It was during the night that she could just be.

The opera was quiet, and it seemed to Maggie as if she were alone in her own little world. And maybe it was because of this that she felt brave enough to sing.

_"You said you'd share with me one love, one lifetime. That you'd keep me from my solitude."_

As the lullaby rose in the air it was shaky and mournful, and if anyone had been able to hear it, they would have been moved to tears by the sheer pain in Maggie's voice.

_"You'd share each day with me, each night, each morning."_

Maggie got up from her bed and walked to the window. She leaned out and sung into the night, her voice growing stronger with her plea.

_"Anywhere you go, let me go too!"_

The tears stopped and Maggie felt strangely calm as the wind caressed her face.

_"Papa, that's all I asked of you..."_

She pulled away and closed the latch. Filled with a sudden burst of energy, Maggie ran to the stage, barefoot and clothed only in her night gown, and attacked her ballet solo with an insane passion.


End file.
